Holiday For One
Anthea settled down in her deckchair and let out a long, contented sigh.
She had made it. She was in Portugal, on a beach, with sand between her toes and sunshine warm as toast on her cheeks. It was beautiful, it was serene and, best of all, she was free to enjoy it alone.
When Anthea’s husband Phil had suggested she take some time away to rest and recuperate after the – he had punctuated the phrase with a polite cough – “recent turmoil”, she had initially refused.
She couldn’t simply swan off and leave him and the kids back in Surrey, could she?